<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>You're Our Brothers by WhisperArtist</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23975128">You're Our Brothers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperArtist/pseuds/WhisperArtist'>WhisperArtist</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adding characters as I go, But not really I promise, Child Abandonment, Crying, Duane Street Lodging House, Fever, Found Family, Genderfluid Character, House of Refuge, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Minor Character Death, Nicknames, Nightmares, Origin Story, Original Character Death(s), Refuge, Underage Drinking, but it's only mentioned, deadnaming, genderfluid smalls</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:27:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,231</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23975128</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperArtist/pseuds/WhisperArtist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Duane Street Lodging House has seen many kids over the years. Kids come from different backgrounds and from all over the city and sometimes all over the globe. Let's see how some of your favorite newsies got where they are now.</p><p>Shitty summary, I know. I'm trying.</p><p>I'm going to update characters and tags with each chapter. These are also posted in the way I think the newsies came to the Lodging House.</p><p>1. Prologue<br/>2. Specs<br/>3. Jack<br/>4. Smalls</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm hoping to be able to update this thing every week, but I don't really know. I have the three chapters written (including this one) and the fourth one is in the works. We'll just see what happens.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Duane Street Newsboys Lodging House was home to many a newsie through the years. Mr. Kloppman was a tough but generous man that took in the abandoned and runways of Lower Manhattan, giving them a place to stay and food to eat. Every kid that came through those doors, whether they stayed a few days or a few years, were grateful for what Kloppman did for them, even if they showed it in weird ways.</p><p>Through the years, Kloppman took on more kids than he could count, even single one of them coming from different backgrounds and occasionally different boroughs. Each one of his kids, though, brought something new to the Lodging House. Some brought softness despite outward intimidation. Some brought patience despite short tempers. Those that brought undying compassion despite never receiving any were the most valued among the boys. </p><p>In the end, it didn’t matter where you came from or where you were headed, the newsies had a motto. One that rang out through the bunk rooms more often than their usual <i>carry the banner</i> but lacked the sometimes overbearing enthusiasm. A motto whispered softly at night and bellowed at the end of a going-away party.</p><p>Once a newsie, always a newsie.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Specs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Even before the great Jack Kelly, there was Specs.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ocs in this chapter: Ryan "Steel", Bear, Pop (Mentioned), Patches (Mentioned)</p><p>Trigger Warnings: Minor character death</p><p>Fair warning, my accents are shotty at best</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>While everyone knew that Jack was the leader of Lower Manhattan newsies, not many realized that one kid lived there longer than the famous Jack Kelly. In most of the other New York boroughs, ranks were based on how long a newsie lived in their respective lodging house. From Midtown to the Bronx to the Bowery and beyond, that’s how every lodging house was run. Every Lodging House except for Lower Manhattan and Brooklyn.</p><p>Specs would never forget his first day at the lodging house. Not a single person that was there that day remained in the lodging house, and that was probably for the best. Some of the decisions made on that very first day were far from the best. Then again, a five-year-old couldn’t really be counted on to make the best decisions. Especially when scared in a new place surrounded by guys at least twice your size.</p>
<hr/><p>Despite becoming a newsie at the age of five, Jordan “Specs” Willis didn’t have it too bad before he ended up on Duane Street. Sure, his father left before he was even born, and his mother died early enough that he didn’t remember her. Yeah, that sucked a good bit, but his older brother took good care of him. Ryan was only his half brother, and a good fifteen years older at that, but he was dedicated. More than that. He would do anything for Jordan.</p><p>Ryan worked in a factory all day, and Jordan was lucky enough to go to school. Ryan made enough money, so they had what they needed. They weren’t wealthy by any means, but they were comfortable. It would be a long while before Jordan ever realized how good he had it growing up.</p><p>The night before everything went wrong, Jordan asked about the boys he always saw on the streets while Ryan walked him to school. They were always selling newspapers, <i>The World,</i> Ryan said, and it was usually the same boy there every day. Ryan bought a paper every day, giving them a nickel for it. The boy always looked like he didn’t believe it, even though Jordan’s older brother did the same thing every day. Jordan was young, but he saw the almost burning look in Ryan’s eyes when he saw those kids, even if he didn’t know what it meant.</p><p>“Who are those kids?” Jordan asked one night. “The ones you always buy papers from?”</p><p>“Those boys are newsies,” Ryan said, sitting on the edge of Jordan’s bed. “They sell newspapers every day to make a living.”</p><p>“Like you?” Jordan asked, oh so innocently.</p><p>“Almost,” Ryan replied with a soft smile. “Most of the boys in this part of the city live in the Duane Street Lodging House. They’re lucky if they have a big brother looking after them.” Ryan reached out and flicked Jordan’s nose, causing the younger boy to laugh. He knew there was more to the story, though.</p><p>“How do you know so much?”</p><p>“I was a newsie when I was younger,” Ryan said. “They called me Steel. They’re a good group.” He paused, and his gaze drifted far past Jordan like he knew. The next thing he said would be imprinted in Jordan’s mind forever. “If anythin’ happens to me, you go straight down to Duane Street. Find Patches and tell her Steel sent ya. If she’s not there, find Bear. Got it?”</p><p>There was a scary intensity in Ryan’s blue-gray eyes that night as his speech patterns shifted. Became more like the newsboys on the street. Years later, Jordan would still remember that look. The way Ryan’s eyes burned that night. A look of undying desire to protect him at all costs.</p>
<hr/><p>Jordan knew something was wrong when Ryan didn’t come home that night. He tried to brush off the uneasy feeling in his chest and went about his nightly routine. The feeling didn’t go away. It was hard to sleep and waking up without his brother felt so incredibly wrong, it made his stomach turn. Jordan forced himself to get out of bed and go to school, though. Even without his brother, he made sure to buy a paper from the newsboy on the corner.</p><p>At five years old, Jordan couldn’t read all that well, but that didn’t stop his eye from catching the headline. <i>Factory Explosion Kills Workers.</i> He didn’t understand most of it, but he knew the name of the factory his brother worked in. There it was, first line. A little more skimming brought what he was dreading right out. <i>Those that died in the explosion include Ryan Willis...</i> barely an afterthought at the very bottom of the page.</p><p>Jordan ran back home, only it wasn’t much of a home anymore. Not without his brother. Jordan knew he wouldn’t be able to stay in the apartment he spent his whole life in, and he wasn’t about to let them shove him in some orphanage. Jordan grabbed what he could, stuffing it into a bag, and went on the search for Duane Street.</p>
<hr/><p>All of the streets look the same. That was Jordan’s last thought as he collapsed in an alley, fighting back tears. He couldn’t even do the last thing his brother said. Go to Duane Street. Find Patches. If she’s not there, find Bear. That’s what Ryan said, but instead, Jordan was crying in an alley. It was getting dark now, and he had nowhere to go.</p><p>“Hey, little guy,” a voice called maybe minutes, maybe hours after Jordan first entered the alley. It was younger, but Jordan couldn’t bring himself to budge. “Whatcha doin’ there?”</p><p>Jordan’s breath hitched, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look up. Footsteps echoed through the alleyway as the person got closer, stopping right in front of him. He was silent for a moment before tapping Jordan’s knee. He glanced up but ducked his head as soon as he saw the larger boy crouching in front of him. </p><p>“Hey, it’s okay, I’s won’t hurt ya,” the boy said, voice soft. “I’m Bear. What’s ya name?”</p><p>Jordan looked up at Bear. He was one of the people Ryan told him to find. Bear and Patches. That’s what he said.</p><p>Jordan must have been quiet for a while because Bear finally said, “It’s okay, bud, ya don’t have ta tell me.” He looked Jordan over, smiling. “I’ll call ya Specs, okay?”</p><p>Jordan nodded, pushing his glasses farther up his nose. Bear nodded back and looked at the sky where the sun was starting to paint it bright oranges and pinks. He stood and offered Jordan a hand up. Jordan took it, and Bear pulled him to his feet. </p><p>“Let’s get ya to the Lodgin’ House before it gets too dark,” Bear said, leading Jordan out of the alley. “Ya don’t have anywhere else ta go, right?”</p><p>Jordan stared ahead, something in his brain freezing. “My big brother died yesterday.” Bear barely faltered, glancing down at him with sympathy in his eyes. “He told me to go to Duane Street.”</p><p>“Ya had a pretty smart brotha,” Bear said. “He know us?”</p><p>“He told me he was a newsboy,” Jordan told him. “Steel.”</p><p>That got Bear to stop in his tracks. He looked down at Jordan and stared long and hard as if he was looking for a lie. Like he didn’t believe Jordan was his brother or he didn’t want to believe Ryan was dead. After a moment, he looked back up and kept walking, pulling Jordan along behind him. He didn’t say another word the rest of the way.</p><p>“Hey Kloppman, I got someone new!” Bear called as he pulled Jordan into the Lodging House. The building was huge. Bigger than almost any other building Jordan had ever seen. It was at least six stories high and occupied a whole city block. It looked even bigger on the inside, too.</p><p>“Who you got this time, Bear?” An older man asked, coming up to a counter in the front of the entryway. “Oh, a little. How old are you, son?”</p><p>“Five,” Jordan replied, hiding behind Bear a little bit. </p><p>“This here is Specs,” Bear said. “He’s Steel’s younger brotha. Specs, this is Mr. Kloppman.”</p><p>“Steel’s younger brother, eh?” Kloppman said, looking Jordan over. “I’m sure he’s a good kid like his brother.” Bear smiled and dropped a few coins on Mr. Kloppman’s desk before taking Jordan’s hand again and pulling him up the stairs. He pointed out all of the important things along the way, including the bathrooms, laundry room, kitchen, and school rooms. It turned out that there were kids other than newsies in the Lodging House. The newsies had a whole floor of bunkrooms, but there were also bootblacks and a few factory kids on the floor below them.</p><p>“This is the newsie bunkroom,” Bear said once they reached the top floor. “You can stay here with me until we find ya a bed.” Bear pushed the first door open to reveal a room with at least twenty bunk beds lined up.</p><p>“Mine’s over here,” Bear said, sitting on the bed in the closest corner. “Pop sleeps above me, but they're a pretty quiet kid.”


Jordan nodded and came over to sit on the opposite side of the bed. It was quiet for a little bit before he asked, “What happened to Patches?”</p><p>“She left a few months ago,” Bear explained. “Turned eighteen and went on ta bigger and brighter things. Least, I hope so.” Jordan nodded, but Bear seemed to hear his question anyway. “Kloppman’ll let ya stay till you’s nineteen, sometimes twenty, but most kids leave at eighteen.” </p><p>That made sense. That was probably part of the reason Ryan left because Jordan knew he wouldn’t work in a factory if he could’ve avoided it. He left to make more money and take care of him, even though he never wanted to work inside. Jordan didn’t quite feel sad, thinking about his brother and everything that happened. Ryan would say it was because he wasn’t worth being sad over. Jordan disagreed, even then, but… he just didn’t feel anything yet.</p><p>Jordan spent most of the night hiding when the other boys got home. Bear introduced him to everyone in small groups, but Jordan couldn’t help noticing that he was the youngest by far. He couldn’t deal with that many older kids, not in the moment, and thankfully, they left him alone. No one but Bear tried to talk to him the whole night.</p><p>Jordan slept in Bear’s bed that night, waking every so often from nightmares of losing his big brother. The thing was, his nightmares were reality. His big brother, the man that raised him, was gone forever. Each time he woke up sobbing, though, Bear held him close and comforted him. He held him just like Ryan would, telling him everything would be okay.</p><p>Eventually, it was. He adopted his new name quickly. The bigger family took a little longer to get used to, but he grew to love every single one of his older brothers and sisters. Selling was hard work, but he always had Bear at his side. His new big brother. He never forgot Ryan, not even for a second, but Bear wasn’t Jordan’s big brother. Bear was what Specs needed, not Jordan.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes, I did name Specs' older brother Ryan and yes his nickname is Steel. I usually see Specs as the lovely Jordan Samuels so I have to give Ryan a little nod while I was at it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Jack</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Francis Sullivan and all of his rotten luck died in the Refuge. Jack Kelly came out and he has all of the luck in the world.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ocs in this chapter: Bear, Stitch, Runner (Mentioned), Flower (Leader of the Bronx Newsies), Nick (Mentioned; Leader of the Midtown Newsies), Clover (Mentioned; Leader of the Harlem Newsies), Copper (Mentioned)</p><p>Trigger Warnings: Mentions of underage drinking and getting kicked out</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Some newsies are just born with rotten luck. Some of them shook it when they got to Duane Street, but others got screwed over by life. Francis Sullivan was one of those kids. The kind of kid that had one bad day that turned into a week and then months and then years. Lucky for him, though, Jack Kelly had all of the luck in the world.</p><p>Jack Kelly was born in a place of darkness, days before freedom. Jack Kelly had parents looking for a place to live in Santa Fe instead of a dead mom and convict dad. Jack Kelly was lucky. Jack Kelly was charismatic. Jack Kelly knew how to win people over.</p><p>Jack Kelly was born in the Refuge. In the ashes of Francis Sullivan. And Jack Kelly was a survivor.

</p>
<hr/><p>Snyder was one sick son of a bitch, Jack knew that much. He arrested kids for living on the streets and put them right back out there when they finished their sentence. Snyder would pick them back up just as quick, continuing a vicious cycle that literally killed the poor kids of the city. Just so he could have some more money in his pocket. He didn’t care about the kids in the city, and he made it pretty damn clear. He just broke them.</p><p><i>Snyder didn’t break me,</i> Jack thought as he was practically thrown from the Refuge, beaten and bloody. He got stuck in that hellhole for not having a place to live, only to be thrown out. As if that made any sense. </p><p>The damage was done, though. That much was very clear. Jack’s whole body screamed as he picked himself off the sidewalk. He counted it as a blessing, the pain. If he felt pain he was alive, even if it was nearly impossible to move. His chest burned with each rattled breath, and his thoughts were scrambled, but he was alive. </p><p>With one last glare to the prison he spent the last month in, Jack started limping up the street. He didn’t really know where he was going, but the farther he got from that hell hole, the better. He would probably end up sleeping in an alley as if he had anywhere else to go, but at least he was away from Snyder. </p><p>If Jack made it ten minutes before he collapsed, he would be surprised. As his vision slowly faded back in his body protested the way it was introduced to the ground. The people walking through the streets paid him no mind, stepping around or over him. They couldn’t be bothered to help a hurt kid on the street. Not in New York. </p><p>It took what little strength Jack had left to pull himself up and into the nearest alley, dodging the people pushing through the streets and paying him no mind. He collapsed barely a foot from the entrance. It wasn’t the safest or most hidden place, but he didn’t have the energy to move. He rested his head against the side of a building with the intent of staying there for a few minutes, but before he knew it, his eyes slipped closed.

</p>
<hr/><p>The next thing Jack knew there were hands on his shoulders, shaking him awake. He lashed out before he was even fully awake, unaware of his surroundings. Someone caught his fist, and he panicked, immediately struggling to get free. The grip didn’t give, though, and neither did his panic.</p><p>“Hey, hey, relax,” a voice soothed. “I’ll let ya go if ya promise not ta hit my little brother Specs, here.”</p><p>Jack blinked a few times, his vision finally sharpening into focus. A bigger kid, maybe a few years older than him, held Jack’s right fist in his hand. A smaller kid was half hiding behind him, probably about the same age as Jack. The older kid was watching Jack with a kind of intensity unlike anything he ever experienced before while the younger looked halfway terrified. </p><p>Jack swallowed and nodded, the older kid finally dropping his hand. He watched Jack for a moment; the attention practically had Jack squirming. Eyes roamed across his body, cataloging every cut and bruise. There was an almost haunting realization that came over the older boy’s face as he looked Jack over. </p><p>“Ya just got outta the Refuge, didn’t ya?” He asked though it wasn’t much of a question. Jack shuttered internally at the thought. “It’s okay, you’re safe now. I’m Bear. This is Specs. He found ya.”</p><p>Jack locked eyes with the smaller kid, Specs, who nodded a little to him. Jack tried to look braver than he felt, but it was hard. He was tired and hurting, and his head was pounding. The past month was starting to come crashing down, overwhelming Jack’s mind and body. He couldn’t even get up off the ground, not that he had anywhere to go if he could.</p><p>“Hey, you’re okay,” Bear said as if he could tell that Jack was close to tears. Bear gently wrapped him around Jack and pulled him to his chest as the tears started to flow down his face. Bear shushed him softly and shifted Jack in his arms before lifting him off the ground. Jack settled against him as they walked. Eventually, he started to fade in and out, his hearing coming and going, before he passed out completely.

</p>
<hr/><p>“That bastard’s gettin’ better at this,” A voice said above him. It was distant, but Jack could tell it wasn’t Bear. The voice had a distinctly female ring.</p><p>“No shit,” a gruffer voice replied. This one he knew. That was definitely Bear. “Any chance he’s one of yours?”</p><p>“Sorry, Bear, don’t recognize ‘im,” the female voice replied. “I’ll talk ta Nick and Clover on my way home, but I don’t think he’s theirs.”</p><p>“Thanks anyway, Flower,” Bear said. With that, footsteps retreated from the room. Who the hell were they even talking about? Him? Jack didn’t belong to anyone. Not anymore.</p><p>“Bear, I think he’s awake,” a third voice said, coming from right next to Jack’s head. It was the little kid from earlier, Specs. Footsteps echoed through the room again as someone got closer. Jack flinched, more on instinct than anything, and tried to force his eyes open.</p><p>“You’re okay, kid,” Bear said for what seemed like the thousandth time today. The bed -- he was lying in a bed -- shifted as someone sat down next to him. “You’re on Duane Street, far from that crap hole.”</p><p>Duane Street was in Lower Manhattan, far from 23rd Street. He heard plenty of kids talking about it in the Refuge. Mostly, they complained about being in Midtown instead; some long-standing rivalry apparently. Jack didn’t care much. Not when he was so focused on just surviving.</p><p>“Specs, go see if Runner’s back with Stitch,” Bear said. Little feet ran from the room, leaving Jack alone with Bear. “Think ya can open your eyes for me?”</p><p>Jack growled slightly, trying to pry his eyes open. He snapped them shut as soon as he managed against the blinding light. Taking another rattling breath, he tried again, slower this time, giving his eyes a chance to adjust. Jack didn’t like the look Bear was giving him. It was genuinely fearful. No one ever cared enough to fear for him. Not in a long time. </p><p>“Hey,” Bear said, smiling down at him. “What’s ya name?”</p><p>“Jack Kelly,” Jack said without hesitation, voice rough from lack of use. That’s who he was now.</p><p>“It’s nice to meetcha, Jack,” Bear said as if he actually meant it. He couldn’t mean it, though, right? “Ya got busted up pretty good, but Stitch’ll be here soon to look ya over. He’s a bit rough around the edges, but he means well.”</p><p>Jack bit his lip at the prospect but didn’t protest. He didn’t want to be touched, but he didn’t want to see what happened if he said no. Snyder didn’t like it when Jack didn’t do as he was told. He pretended he didn’t care back then, that none of it bothered him, but he didn’t have the energy to fight back. He wanted to, but he couldn’t. He also couldn’t run the risk of being left out on the street again. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Jack was starting to realize he was in worse shape than he thought. </p><p>Jack’s focus snapped back when the door opened. Bear looked at the door immediately, almost defensively, but his posture softened when he saw who was there. Specs was back with another kid trailing after him. The other kid was older than even Bear, bigger with dark hair and dark eyes and a haunted look. His eyes swept across the whole room, searching each corner, before landing on Bear and Jack.</p><p>“What the hell happened?” The kid asked, gaze shifting back and forth between Bear and Jack. His voice was gravelly and thick with an accent that wasn’t entirely New York.</p><p>“Refuge,” Bear said simply. Something shifted in the kid’s eyes, getting harder and softer at the same time. “Jack, this is Stitch.”</p><p>Stitch looked Jack over, something practical and calculating in his eyes. He nodded to himself and then walked over to one of the other bunks, pulling a bag out from under one, and coming back. He dropped the bag on the chair Specs was probably occupying earlier. His face betrayed no emotion, but Jack could see a few fading scars on his face and hands.</p><p>“Out,” he finally said, not looking at Bear or Specs as he rolled up his sleeves, bearing even more scars. “Both of you’s. I’ll get ya later.” Bear looked reluctant to go, but he stood and left the room, Specs trailing after him. Jack watched them go before turning back to Stitch.</p><p>“Bear tries, but he just don’t get it,” Stitch said. “He wants to be there for everybody, but he just don’t know what it’s like to come outta that hell hole.”</p><p>Jack’s breath hitched at that, but Stitch either didn’t hear or had the decency to pretend he didn’t. Jack wanted to ask, but he figured questions would be unwelcomed. He just stayed as silent as he could manage as Stitch pulled up his shirt, poking and prodding the bruises covering his torso. Jack winced as Stitch brushed a particularly painful spot, and the older kid pulled back immediately. Concern sparkled in his eyes, the first emotion Jack clearly saw from him.</p><p>“You were there,” Jack finally said as Stitch helped him sit up. “Got out a week after I got in.”</p><p>Stitched hummed, wrapping up Jack’s broken ribs. “Thought I recognized you.” He said. There was silence for a minute. “Wasn’t the first time, though. Probly woulda died without Bear that first time. He’s a good kid. Doesn’t know shit, but still good.”</p><p>“He in charge?” Jack asked. Stitch snorted and then apologized when he pulled the bandage too tight.</p><p>“Bear’s too young ta be in charge,” Stitch said. “Got at least twenty kids older than him here, me including.” He chuffed. “Copper’s in charge, but he’s been a mess for a while. Doesn’t always come back to the Lodgin’ House. Always fightin’ with Nick. Drunk mosta the time. It’s a matter of time before Kloppman kicks ‘im out.”</p><p>Stitch continued talking about the boroughs and Copper and Nick, but Jack passed out well before he could register any of it. He spent the next few days fading in and out of consciousness as his fever spiked to the point of delirium. Stitch set his broken bones and stitched up anything needing it, but there wasn’t anything he could do about the fever. Jack spent days barely conscious, plagued with visions of the Refuge and Snyder, but every time he came too, Stitch was right by his side.</p><p>Despite the barely controlled fever and pain, Jack Kelly was a survivor. Three days after he was first brought to the Lodging House, his fever broke. By day four, he was on his feet again, and day five brought Jack Kelly to the streets of New York City. He stood by Stitch’s side and would for years to come. They were brothers -- all of the newsies were -- bonded in shared blood.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So apparently I lied about the once a week update schedule. I'm done school at the end of the week so hopefully, I can get these things out faster. We'll see</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Smalls</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Smalls got lucky when she got kicked out. A kind woman took her in and found her place to live and a place to work. And she found her few family.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ocs in this chapter: Crystal (mentioned), Maggie (mentioned), Pop, Bear (mentioned), Stitch (mentioned), Runner (mentioned)</p><p>Trigger Warnings: Being kicked out for being genderfluid, deadnaming kind of (Jack being called Francis, sort of. It's hard to explain), Abandonment, brief homophobia</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elizabeth didn’t expect to end up on the streets at five. Honestly, she didn’t expect a lot of the things that happened in her life. She didn’t expect her mother to kick her out because she was different--wasn’t always her mother’s little girl. She didn’t expect to find somewhere to live, let alone someone that would accept her. She didn’t expect to find a home—an actual home with people that cared about her and protected her.</p><p>Elizabeth’s salvation came in the form of a woman in the Bowery. Miss Medda Larkin took Elizabeth in and gave her a place to stay until she could find somewhere better. Medda didn’t ask questions and never told her she was wrong when she didn’t, well, feel like a <i>she.</i> Medda didn’t care as long as Elizabeth was safe, and she promised to find Elizabeth a place where they accepted her.</p>
<hr/><p>Elizabeth spent three days with Medda when Jack Kelly entered her life. Except, on this particular day, Elizabeth wasn’t much of a girl. Medda took to calling him Eli, which worked just fine. Eli was just happy to have someone understand him. </p><p>Jack arrived at the theater around noon that day. Medda took Eli to work every day since taking him in, which was probably the best part of the past few days. Eli loved sitting backstage and watching the performers. They didn’t pay him much attention, but two women, Crystal and Maggie, always made sure to entertain him when Medda was busy.</p><p>When Medda saw Jack, she greeted him as if he was her son, pulling him into a hug with her beaming smile. Eli started associating it with safety. Jack wasn’t much bigger than Eli, maybe a few years older than him. </p><p>“Jack Kelly, my boy!” Medda said, holding Jack at arm’s length so she could look him over. “How have you been, darlin’?”</p><p>“I’m okay, Medda,” Jack assured her. “Bear sent me over. Said ya was lookin’ for me.”</p><p>“Yes. Come here, dear,” Medda said, taking Jack’s arm and leading him to Eli. “Jack, this is Eli. Eli, this is Jack Kelly.”</p><p>Jack smiled down at him while Eli just stared. “You’s a small one,” he said. Eli scowled. “How old are ya?”</p><p>“Five,” Eli said confidently.</p><p>“Jack, I want you to takin him back to the Lodging House,” Medda said. “He doesn’t have anywhere else to go, and I can’t keep him here, as much as I want to.”</p><p>Jack nodded and leaned down, so he was closer to Eli’s level. “I’ll introduce ya to Pop. They’ll like ya.” Jack’s smile was soft and genuine, like Medda’s. Eli decided he liked Jack. If Medda trusts him, Eli did too.</p><p>“There’s one other thing,” Medda said. Medda started to explain to Jack that Eli wasn’t always Eli, just like they agreed. They talked for a while, and Jack asked a question or two. Eli let Medda do most of the talking. She was better at explaining than Eli was. Jack didn’t seem upset like his mother was. Medda told him before that Jack would be accepting, but it was a relief to see it in person.</p><p>“We should be gettin’ back,” Jack finally said. Medda gave them each a hug, kissing Eli on the cheek. They both promised to visit, Jack vowing to bring Eli back. Jack offered his hand as they left, and Eli cautiously took it.</p><p>“I think we’re gonna haveta give ya a nickname,” Jack said suddenly. The pair had been walking for a while now, Jack promising the Lodging House was close. He told Eli about the rules and the kids that lived there as they walked, assuring him that they were nice.</p><p>“The boys are real nice, but they ain’t always that smart,” Jack continued without missing a beat. “I don’t think they’d do too well goin’ back and forth ‘tween Eli and Elizabeth.” Eli considered that. It made sense, and Jack was just trying to protect him.</p><p>“Do the other boys have nicknames?” He asked quietly.</p><p>“Sure!” Jack said excitedly. “Pop’s one. No one knows their real name ‘cept for Bear. Bear’s another one. His real name is Anthony, but he don’t like it. There’s Stitch and Runner and Specs. Even the other boroughs use nicknames.”</p><p>“What about you?” Eli asked innocently. Jack’s eyes flashed dark for a moment. Eli flinched, worried Jack wouldn’t want him anymore. His dad looked the same way before he left.</p><p>“If I tell you, ya can’t tell anyone, got it?” Jack said in a mischievous tone, but his eyes were serious. Eli nodded. “My momma named me Francis. Francis Sullivan. But he died before I became a newsie.”</p><p>Eli watched with wide eyes. Jack went quiet for a moment before his happy shine came back.</p><p>“So how’s ’bout a nickname?” Jack asked. Actually looked for permission before renaming him. Medda asked too, before making him Eli. He liked it.</p><p>“Yes,” Eli agreed. Jack’s smile widened, finally reaching his eyes again.</p><p>“How about Smalls?”</p>
<hr/><p>That night, Jack introduced Smalls to the newsies of Duane Street Lodging House. They welcomed him with open arms, and it wasn’t ten minutes before it was like he always lived there. Jack took special care to introduce him to Pop. Pop was skittish at first but warmed up quickly.</p><p>While everyone else was occupied elsewhere, leaving Pop and Smalls alone, he told Pop how sometimes he was a boy, and sometimes he was a girl. It was a rare burst of confidence. Smalls hadn’t told anyone since Medda. Pop’s eyes lit up as they told Smalls they weren’t a girl or a boy. </p><p>Everyone traded bunks that night so that Pop could sleep above Smalls, and they became close as could be. Even though Pop was a year older and usually sold on their own, they stayed by Smalls’s side just like Jack did.</p><p>Smalls and Pop were close, but Jack was always the one that Smalls trusted above anyone else. Jack was the only one in the Lodging House that knew Smalls real names; Smalls and Pop never talked about birth names. Jack took a quiet moment out of earshot of the rest of the kids to say good morning, using Smalls’ real names. Smalls would always beam back. Smalls would never know how Jack knew which name to use or how he knew when Smalls needed to hear it.</p><p>Smalls would swear until the last day the Lodging House ever saw Jack—parting with a <i>Goodbye, Elizabeth</i>—that the man was magic.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm not genderfluid, but I am non-binary, so I have a little bit of experience in the gender-nonconforming area. If you have suggestions to make this a little bit better, please let me know!</p><p>It's also shockingly hard to explain genderfluidness (that's a word now) without actually using the term.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>